Steps to a New Persona
by soraxtsuna123
Summary: After a social worker mistakingly thought Ponyboy was being abused by Darry, he gets sent to a boys' home. There he deals with actually being abused and, one day, he snaps. He becomes a different person, tougher, and gets into fights. But fighting could only get you so far before things are taken too far. One-shot. Request by JJkitten23.


**Request by JJkiten23.**

**Thank you so much for submitting a request!**

**IMPORTANT FOR READERS! PLEASE READ BEFORE PROCEEDING! This one-shot sort of has modern technology in it. It will still have Socs and greasers, but the only thing that's off is the technology. I didn't really emphasize on it much and it's only really mentioned for a few sentences. But you should be able to read this one-shot without really taking a step back at the technological references I have in there if it bothers you. I just wanted to inform you guys that just in case any reader is confused at that one little blip in the story.**

**R&R**

**o-o-o**

"Beat that greaser to a pulp!"

Ponyboy's body slammed against the bathroom wall, feeling his brain raddle within his head. He gasped in pain as he slid down the wall, glaring up at the towering figures of the Socs. He licked his cracked lips tasting the iron in his blood on his tongue. "Are you done now?" he hissed, too weak to get back on his feet with the beating he just took.

"Not nearly," the ringleader of the Socs answered with a small, cocky, victorious smirk. He cracked his knuckle, getting closer to him.

"What have I ever done to you?"

The Soc scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I don't see why the teachers like you. What did you do to get into the honor classes and to get good grades? You don't have enough money to bribe the teachers, you greaser scum." The Soc paused for a bit before shooting him a dirty look. "Did you use your body?"

"What?" Ponyboy felt his ears turn red, drawing back. He quickly regained composure though, glare turning harsher. "Of course not, but I could ask you the same thing you, you stinkin' Soc." Ponyboy spat at the Soc's feet, even though he knew that he was going to regret it. As soon as he did that, the Soc grabbed his head with a growl, kneeing him in the nose. Pain spread across his head like veins and Pony cried out as blood sputtered from his nose. As soon as his head was let go, he grabbed his nose, thankful that it wasn't broken, and wincing at how sensitive it was. His glare did not waver, however, as he shot up to his feet with newfound strength, throwing his fist forward. But, before his knuckles could make contact, another Soc pushed him to the ground and started to kick him. The others quickly joined him.

Ponyboy cried out in pain, covering his head and neck as they continued to kick at him. "You think you're tough?" one of the growled.

"Someone, help!" Ponyboy cried out, voice jumping at each painful hit.

"Do you think anyone will come save you?" Another kick. "You're so weak. You couldn't even lay a hand on one of us. Your buddies probably think you're a charity case with how weak you are."

The words stung, even more than the beating that was sure to leave bruises. They continued to kick him and throw insults at him until they got bored, at least that's what Ponyboy thought. Whatever the reason was for them leaving, Ponyboy was thankful. They left him on the tiled floor, bleeding and bruised, after spitting on him on him one last time. Ponyboy wheezed as he sat up, feeling his bones creak inside of him. Every inch he moved felt like he was being stabbed in a million places. He wondered if anything was broken. His entire body hurt too much to even detect any anomalies like a broken bone.

After taking a long breather, Ponyboy struggled to his feet, feeling his body screaming at him to stop moving. He stumbled to the mirror to look at the damage and winced upon looking at himself. His nose had long since stopped bleeding, but, as he expected, his body was littered with dark bruised, totally covering up the older ones. Fortunately, he managed to save his face from sharing the same fate. Ponyboy readjusted his sleeves that had been pushed up. He always had to wear long sleeves now because the Socs were always going after him at school. It's been going on ever since he stepped into his first class on his first day of high school and, to be honest, he dreaded going now. He hated being expected by the gang to do well in his classes because it meant having to deal with the constant bullying alone. Ponyboy had to wonder what would happen if he wasn't placed in all of those advanced classes and was stuck in the classrooms with more greasers. Maybe if he was, Ponyboy wouldn't be beaten to a pump almost every day. It was all so stressful.

He was put in even more stress when he returned him too. It was hard to how broken he actually was. It seemed like Ponyboy always had to lie to the gang to the point where he mastered fake smiling... and that scared him.

He also found it increasingly difficult to hide his cuts and bruises. Luckily, long sleeves were a thing. The gang always looked at him with questioning eyes, though, whenever it was a hundred degrees out but he still was insistent in wearing long sleeves. They probably thought he was going to die of a heat stroke, and, Ponyboy thought so too. It was almost unbearable to wear long sleeves all the time, but it was necessary to preserve his secret.

Yes, Ponyboy _could_ potentially tell the gang what was happening, and everything would probably stop, but he didn't want to appear weak like what the Socs said he was. Besides, he lasted this long. He could make it until he graduated in a few years.

Ponyboy washed the blood off of his face and hands before he limped out of the bathroom. School was still in session, but he didn't want to stay any longer. He exited the school and slowly made his way back home on foot, wincing at every antagonizing step. Darry was probably going to be angry at him for ditching, but, Ponyboy couldn't care less at the moment. All he wanted to do was crash in his bed and sleep his injuries away.

It took forever to get home, but, when he arrived, the first thing Ponyboy noticed was the nice car that was parked in front. He cocked his head to the side, wondering who would be visiting them. They almost never got any visitors. But, whatever. Maybe the person who owned the car went to another house that wasn't his. That theory made a lot more sense. With that in mind, Pony opened the front door and froze.

A woman stood in the living room, clad in professional clothing. Glasses framed her calculating eyes, making her sort of look like a librarian with how her hair was tied up. As soon as he opened the door, she looked at Ponyboy and he instantly felt like disappearing. Her eyes traveled across his body from head to toe, eyes narrowing. Ponyboy shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, pulling at his sleeves. It felt like she knew that something was up, but that was impossible, right? Ponyboy hid everything, right? He was sure he did. Then why was she…

"Hey, Pony," Soda greeted with a smile.

"Hey," Ponyboy answered before turning to Darry who had a different expression altogether. He gulped when he saw the rage on Darry's reddening face. It was time to face what he was dreading his entire walk back home.

"What are you doing home? School isn't out," Darry demanded and Ponyboy shrank back. He didn't want to deal with Darry hollering at him at the moment. He already got enough of it at school.

"I didn't feel well," he lied.

"Without telling the school or me? Ponyboy, you can't just leave school whenever you feel like it! I'm taking you back _right now_." Darry grabbed Ponyboy's wrist a bit too harshly, pressing his fingers into a fresh bruise, causing Ponyboy to wince.

"No, I don't want to go back!" He tugged on Darry's iron grip, but it only made everything hurt even more.

"Too bad." Darry turned to the lady in the house. "I'm really sorry about this. He never does something like this. I'll be right back so you can continue your inspection."

Ponyboy's eyes widened. Wait, that was a social worker? He didn't know a social worker was coming today. But, before Ponyboy could even dwell on that thought, Darry started to drag him out of the house, ignoring the pained expression on his face. Before he got to the door, the social worker stopped them. "Hold on," she said, icy eyes rivaling Darry's. She stomped over to the two in her heels until she was staring right up Darry's nose. "Let go of him, sir. You have no right to treat him like that."

Darry scrunched his eyebrows together as he let go. "Excuse me?"

"Your harming your brother and that is unacceptable."

Now the entire house was confused. "Darry… what is she talking about?" Soda asked.

"I don't know," Darry replied.

"You're abusing Ponyboy," the social worker clarified.

The house was even more confused. "No, I assure you, I'm not."

"You are, and I'll prove it to you." The social worker grabbed Ponyboy's arm before he could react and pulled down his sleeve, revealing all the bruises. She hummed. "As I suspected."

Soda and Darry were staring at Ponyboy in shock and all said boy could do was pull his arm away, covering the bruises back up. "It's not what you think," he tried to explain weakly. "I'm not being abused."

The social worker put a hand on his shoulder as a way to comfort him. "It's okay. You're going to be okay now. You don't have to defend him. I'm going to get you out of here. This house is unfit to have you living in it."

"No! Darry didn't do this to me!"

She looked skeptical. "Then who did? Was it Sodapop?"

"No! It was, it was—"

"It has to be one of them. Why else would you be covered in bruises?"

"It was the Socs. Not Darry or Soda!"

"We didn't hurt Ponyboy," Darry stated.

"He's right. We would never do something like that. We're all we have left," Soda added, standing up. The smile on his face was long gone.

"I'm sorry, but I do not believe what any of you are saying. I saw the flinch when Darrel snatched Ponyboy's wrist and how harsh that grab was. You cannot convince me otherwise. I am going to send in my paperwork to have Ponyboy removed from this household. Sodapop, we will see about you too. The court will decide what will happen. For now, I want both of you to pack your stuff and I will take you out of the house. If the court decides that you can stay, you can return, but I doubt that will happen."

"But—" all of them tried to object but the social worker was having none of it.

"Do it now, please. I will not listen to any more excuses."

The three brothers looked at each other pitifully. Their hearts were beating quickly as dread overtook them. Was this really happening to them after they've been so careful? Ponyboy pursed his lips as he headed to his room. He could feel tears brim his eyes. It was his fault. All his fault. He was the reason why this was happening to them. Soda shouldn't be punished for what he did.

What he did? No, it was the Socs's fault. Not his. He wasn't the one who caused the bruises… But if only he was tougher, then this wouldn't be happening. It was all his fault.

"What's going on?" he heard Two-Bit's voice ask when the greaser entered the house with the other members of the gang.

"Sodapop and Ponyboy are being removed from Darrel's custody," the social worker answered, leaving the gang baffled.

"What? Why?" Steve demanded, straightening up his stance and stepping forward.

"Child abuse."

The gang was all confused at that point. The Curtis brothers were known for being the closest family in the neighborhood. They wouldn't purposefully hurt each other. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Why do you think that Darry's abusing them?" Johnny asked.

"I have found many bruises covering Ponyboy's body."

"Darry didn't do anything," Soda tried to reason. "Ponyboy said the Socs."

The social worker turned to Soda and tapped her foot impatiently. "Sodapop, I told you, pack your stuff. We will be going soon."

"But—"

"_Go!_"

Soda let out a desperate sigh before he headed to his and Pony's room. Ponyboy looked up when the door opened, looking absolutely broken. "Soda, it wasn't Darry," he cried, wiping away his tears. Soda scooped Pony up in his arms and squeezed him as tightly as he could.

"I know, baby, I know," Soda whispered, petting Ponyboy's hair before pulling them apart. "Where'd you get those bruises?"

"The Socs…"

"Did you get jumped?"

Ponyboy shook his head. "No… It was at school… I was expecting it to happen."

Soda faltered a bit, subconsciously tightening up his grip. "Are you… Are you being picked on by them?"

"Yeah…" Ponyboy's voice sounded small. He didn't dare look up at Soda.

"How long has this been happening?"

"Soda—"

"How long?" Soda's hands were gripping Ponyboy's shoulders awfully tightly, slightly shaking.

"Since I started high school."

"That long… It's been going on for over a year…" Soda let out a breath. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Because he didn't want to appear weak. "I could handle it. It's not as bad as it looks."

"Pony…"

"Are you guys done packing?" the social worker called out, snapping them out of their conversation. For a brief moment, Ponyboy was relieved that he had an excuse to get out of the room and avoid finishing that conversation. He grabbed his bag and headed out with Soda on his trail, who didn't pack as much as he did. In fact, he didn't really pack at all.

When he got to the living room, Ponyboy casted his expression downwards. He couldn't bear to look at the gang. It was all his fault. They probably blamed him for everything. He could already feel Steve glaring at him.

"Way to go, kid," he snarked. "You tore everything apart."

"Steve," Soda chided, but Steve continued.

"You said that Socs hurt you? Well, you should have toughened up. This wouldn't be happening if you weren't so weak."

Weak. Ponyboy hated that word. He could feel more tears threatening to spill, but he couldn't let them fall. He wouldn't let them. Not when he was viewed by everyone as being weak. He balled up his fists before the social worker opened the door.

"Let's go," she said, motioning outside with her hands.

"Wait, don't we get to say goodbye?" Soda asked, alarmed.

"You can all do that later. We need to go now. I have a lot of stuff to do."

Everyone looked solemn as they all headed to the social worker's car. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be real. They were actually going to be separated and it was his fault. "Don't worry. The court will sort this misunderstanding out," Soda reassured Ponyboy who nodded. He hoped so. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he caused Soda to be split apart from the gang. He climbed in the back seat, wanting to throw up. At least just remove him, not Soda, Ponyboy pleaded to whoever divine was listening.

**o-o-o**

It was decided, in the end, that Ponyboy would be the only person removed from the home since Soda was already so close to becoming an adult. He didn't have enough time to say his goodbyes to the gang before he was whisked away. The last thing that they got to say to him was that they would find a way to get him back, and Ponyboy held onto those words as he was shoved out of the courtroom by the bailiff.

When Ponyboy arrived at the boy's home, he felt butterflies in his stomach. The house was two stories tall and a bit beat-up looking. It wasn't in the best condition, but it was better than how his house was. The lawn was littered with cigarette buds and glass. Ponyboy made a mental note to not go outside without shoes on.

As soon as he stepped through the doors, his eyes caught ahold of a couple of teenagers that were a bit older than him, looking him from head to two like the social worker had. They whispered stuff to each other before walking away.

Ponyboy was pushed along down the hallway and towards the kitchen where he heard the stove click on. A larger woman was inside, an apron around her waist. She paid no attention to them until the social worker cleared her throat. Instantly, the woman looked up at them, an expression of almost disappointment flashed across her face.

"So, this is the one you want me to take in?" the woman asked, crossing her arms.

"This is him. His name is Ponyboy Curtis. Ponyboy, this is Mrs. Lander. Follow her rules while living here."

Ponyboy nodded, and, with that, the social worker left, leaving him alone with Mrs. Lander. "Hello," he greeted the lady with a forced smile.

"Hello, dear. Let me show you to where you will be sleeping." She led him through the house, passing quite a few kids who sized him up. They entered a room with a large number of bunk beds with scratchy, wool blankets and thin mattresses. The majority of the kids were in the room, seeing how most of the beds had people lying in them. Mrs. Lander pointed to an empty bed in the corner of the room. "That will be your bed. Make sure you don't leave the house, especially without speaking to me beforehand. Don't break anything and don't raise your voice. The house should be relatively quiet. Supper is in an hour."

With that, Mrs. Lander left and Ponyboy could feel all eyes on him. He shifted on his feet and gave everyone a small smile. "Hey," he greeted, quickly making his way to his bed and dropping everything on the mattress. Footsteps approached him and Ponyboy looked up to see a tuff-looking teen that kind of reminded him of Dally with how he presented himself. Instead of bruises, he was covered in scars and his eyes were hardened like he was in an institute for most of his life. "I'm Ponyboy."

"I don't give a fuck what your name is," the teen snapped and Ponyboy flinched a bit but held his stance. "Around here, I'm on top, you dig?"

Maybe Ponyboy should have challenged him so that he wouldn't feel so stepped on, but he didn't want any trouble, at least not on the first day. So, instead, he nodded and felt a bit of shame listening to the teen cackle. The boy left and Ponyboy collapsed on the bed. How much longer does he have to stay here? Four years unless the gang somehow finds a way to get him out. He wondered how different prison was compared to this dump. Four years was too long. Even though he's only been there for a few minutes, he already hated living there.

Ponyboy watched as the other boys turned away from him, talking to other people. It seemed like everyone had grouped themselves into their own gangs and nobody wanted him to join. Maybe if he stood up to that one guy, people wouldn't have seen him to be like a push-over.

Dinner was terrible. Soup and a slice of bread were served. The soup was watery and had no flavor to it while the bread was stale and Ponyboy swore he saw a speck of mold on it. In the middle of eating, that teen came back, pushing his plate off of the table. The food splattered across the dining hall floors and the entire room went quiet to watch them.

"Hey, Horseboy," the teen greeted with that same irritating smirk.

Ponyboy rolled his eyes. "It's Ponyboy."

"What's the difference? Listen, I have cleaning duty today."

"So?"

"Do it for me."

Ponyboy looked at him like he was crazy, slightly gaping. "I've only been here for like an hour."

"I don't think you understand. You're going to do it for me or I'm going to beat you down, new kid." The teen's voice grew dangerously low, causing Ponyboy's skin to crawl.

Ponyboy glared, standing up so that he was on eye level with him. Or almost eye level. The other was almost half of a head taller than he was. "No. I'm not doing your work." If the gang were there, they would probably be patting him on his back. They stood so close to each other, feeling the heat radiate off of the other's body, eyes never wavering.

"Tough guy, huh? I'm going to have to teach you a lesson; knock you down a few pegs."

Before Ponyboy had time to make a witty comeback, his head was grabbed before it was slammed against the table. Ponyboy cried out in pain, but he recovered quickly, throwing a punch that impacted on the other's jaw. His head snapped back up as he tumbled a bit backward with a scream. Ponyboy's vision swayed as stars flashed before his eyes. But, even though the blur, he could still see that smirk.

"Come on, Dan, teach him a lesson!" someone coaxed. Dan huffed, cracking his neck and knuckles before throwing a punch that Ponyboy barely dodged. He stumbled out of the way, but not before a knee hit him in the gut, knocking the breath out of him. Ponyboy wheezed, body doubling over, trying to get his breathing back to normal. In that time, an elbow slammed down on the back of the neck, causing him to fall to the floor. As soon as he hit the ground, a body pinned him down and he thrashed against the new position, trying to break free.

"You act tough but you're so weak. Know your place, new kid," Dan spat in his ears, throwing a punch at his face, causing his nose to start bleeding. Another punch and another punch came after and Ponyboy could feel the world spinning around him, darkening at the edge of his vision. At first, it hurt, but after a bit, he started to feel woozy and numb. Just as he thought he was going to pass out, someone interrupted them.

"Enough!" Mrs. Lander screamed, and Dan instantly got off of him. "What is going on here?"

Her eyes went from the fight that broke out to the spilled food and her face twisted in anger. She removed the cigarette that she was smoking and pointed her finger at the food. "Look at the mess you made!" she continued and if Ponyboy was in a better state he would have questioned her priorities. "Ponyboy, come here! Someone ought to teach you a lesson for throwing away hard work. I worked hard on the food."

"But, Dan did it, not me!" Ponyboy whined, propping himself up. Did she really not see what was going on?

"Don't point your finger at him. He knows better than to do that. You don't. Come with me, _now_!" As Ponyboy just stayed there, staring helplessly at Mrs. Lander, she got annoyed at waiting for him and pulled him to his feet by the ear. "I said, _now_, Ponyboy!"

Ponyboy yelped at the action and stumbled with her as she dragged him to the kitchen. She pushed him against the countertop and glared. "What is wrong with you? I thought you would know better than to throw your food around."

"I didn't do it." Ponyboy whipped away the blood with his sleeve. Christ, there was so much.

Mrs. Lander ignored him. "And starting a fight as well. You really need to learn manners."

Ponyboy couldn't believe it. Did she really think that he was the one who did all that? He was new. Why would he cause so much trouble on the first day? "I didn't do it, I swe—" A slap resonated throughout the kitchen, followed by a burning sensation in Ponyboy's cheek. Mrs. Lander just slapped him. His eyes widened, tears singing them.

Before Ponyboy could process everything, she grabbed him by the hair, making it feel like he was going to go bald with how tightly she was pulling at it. Mrs. Lander threw him on the ground, grabbing a ladle from the sink and bashing him with it. Instinctively, Ponyboy curled up in a ball, protecting his head. The ladle impacted in places that were bruised before, making the experience even more painful. He cried out in pain, letting out tears.

Ponyboy couldn't fight back, which killed him a bit. It was wrong to fight back, and he didn't want to get in any more trouble than he already was. She pulled the cigarette from her mouth that she put back in at a time he didn't remember, bending down and pressing the butt of it on his skin.

Immense heat ran through his body, quickly turning from bearable to agonizing. It was a pain that he never felt before and Ponyboy couldn't help but scream bloody murder. The smell of his burning flesh wafted in the air. It was so gross that Ponyboy felt like throwing up.

It hurt. Oh, Christ, it hurt so badly. This was way worse than the beatings he took from the bullies in his school.

Mrs. Lander pulled back, tsking. "Clean up the mess in the dining hall as well as everyone's dishes. That will be your job for the month."

Ponyboy had no energy at that point. He just wanted her to leave. When she did after stepping on him, he broke down crying, cradling the blistering, burnt flesh. He wanted to go home. He wanted Soda. He hated it here. He could handle school, but this was too much. Everyone hated him here.

He cried there for the rest of the night, hearing the dining hall empty as piles of plates stacked up.

Life was unfair. He surely didn't deserve this punishment… right? Was he really damned to hell on earth? How much longer could he take this hell before breaking? Probably not much longer. Ponyboy was already breaking.

**o-o-o**

When Ponyboy went to the bedding area, totally exhausted with how much he had to deal with that day, he saw Dan still awake. He smirked at Pony who casted his eyes downwards as he scurried to his bed, slipping under the covers and hugging his pillow tightly. He didn't sleep. He couldn't do it knowing that he could be jumped while in slumber.

His days continued like that for weeks. Every day Dan would pick on him, beating him up. Mrs. Lander would find some excuse to beat him as well. His body was practically a different color with how many bruises were all over his body. It felt like the two of them were teaming up together to hurt him. The other people in the boys' home started to take advantage of him as well. He was now practically doing every job in the house. And Ponyboy couldn't object them. He would have been beaten if he went against their request and he couldn't take more than he already was given.

At least there was one upside in being assigned all of the chores. He could busy himself all day long, helping the time go by faster. It made everything more bearable even though he overworked himself all the time.

In the weeks he was there, Ponyboy started to lose hope that he would be rescued by the gang. He was so miserable every day and there was just no sign of anything changing anytime soon. But he still held on as best as he could, even though it felt like everything was going to shatter at any moment. It felt like he was going to snap soon. He didn't know how much more of this he could take.

Then the day where everything changed again happened. Ponyboy was sitting in his bed, scribbling on a blank piece of paper: a note to the gang. He wrote multiple, although he never sent them. Mrs. Lander didn't allow it. So, it was more like a diary than anything. In them, he explained his day, pain, and his cries for help. They helped him get through everything and they were the only things tethering him to sanity.

Ponyboy felt like he was fading away, about to snap. He hardly remembered what it was like before all of this happened. He didn't even remember who he was before this. He just knew that he was much happier… and now… he was just a shell of who he once was.

"What's this?" Dan asked, appearing behind him and ripping the pages out of his hands.

"Hey! Those are mine!" Ponyboy cried out, trying to snatch the pages back but Dan held them out of his reach.

"Is this a letter?" Dan scanned the pages and Ponyboy felt his ears redden as they were read out loud. "Soda, Darry, I miss you. I don't think I can take anymore? Pathetic…"

"Please, just give it back."

"You aren't supposed to be writing letters, you know. I'll do you a favor though." Dan started to tear the pages up and Ponyboy felt his heart drop. Those were his. They were all he had left that really connected him to the gang. And now, they were gone. Ponyboy's vision reddened, hands balling into fists.

The pieces of shredded paper fluttered to the ground. "Look at that, you _weakling_," Dan teased before he let out a gasp of air, eyes widening.

At one moment, Ponyboy was standing there with a petrified expression. The next, he had his hands wrapped around Dan's throat. They fell to the ground with Ponyboy on top of him, strangling him as tightly as he could. Dan's hands shakily tried to pry him off, but he was getting weaker by the second. Ponyboy somehow managed to squeeze tighter, watching the panic in Dan's eyes.

Before Dan could pass out, he let go, and the teen gasped for air, hands clutching his own throat. Ponyboy didn't allow him to recover. He balled up his hands again, slamming them over and over at Dan's face. Blood splattered everyone but Ponyboy didn't care and didn't stop until someone pushed him off.

"Get off of him!" they screamed, trying to help Dan up who looked just as ready to pass out. Ponyboy finally was able to see the damage he did, and it disturbed him. Dan's face was covered in a layer of blood, skin and nose busted, and face all puffed up. It hardly even looked like him anymore with how distorted and broken everything was.

The other people in the bedroom looked at him with wide eyes and slight fear. Ponyboy probably looked like a madman by how much fear they were staring at him with. Pony was breathing heavily, calming down a tad bit. He leaned a bit back, still dazed. He probably should feel apologetic for going too far and nearly killing Dan, but, honestly, Ponyboy felt good. He never felt that good in a long time. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins and it was exhilarating.

"Ponyboy!" came Mrs. Lander's scream, causing the crowd to mostly dissipate. "Come here!"

Ponyboy winced, pushing himself back to his feet. He took one last glance at Dan's beat-up body before following Mrs. Lander to the kitchen. He already knew what was coming. As soon as they entered the kitchen Mrs. Lander whipped around, slapping him. Ponyboy's head smacked back, stinging. "I thought I told you to behave!" Another slap.

Ponyboy should have done nothing and taken the beating, but, at the moment, he was filled with that excitement of fighting Dan. Before she could lay another hand on him, Ponyboy pushed Mrs. Lander back by the shoulders. Her eyes widened in shock because Ponyboy never fought back before. She sputtered, regaining composure.

"I'm going to go take a walk," Ponyboy declared, starting to walk out of the kitchen.

Mrs. Lander broke out of her trance. "You can't go out right now! Ponyboy, get your butt back over here!"

Ponyboy glared at her over his shoulder and she faltered a bit. "I'll be back." With that Ponyboy left the house, heart beating fast. As soon as he got outside, he let out a big breath. He really just did that. Oh, man, did it feel good… He knew that he was going to pay the price later, but, at the moment, he was just living. That was until someone started speaking to him after walking a mile out.

"Look what we have here, a greaser," a voice rang out and Ponyboy rolled his eyes. Was he ever going to get a break?

"What do you want, Socs?" he asked, turning to the source of the voice. A few Socs were there, all drunk with bottles of alcohol in their hands.

"Come on, is that really how you should be treating us, trash?" another asked, voice slurred.

"Leave me alone."

One of the Socs whistled. "Ooh, tough guy."

"I don't know," another Soc interjected, "he looks weak. I mean, look at those bruises. He's probably someone's bitch."

Weak. Ponyboy hated that word. He wished it never existed. Ponyboy growled. He'll show them who's weak.

The Socs flipped out their switchblades and Ponyboy gulped. On second thought, maybe not. It was an unfair fight. They were going to kill him if they used the knives on him. Ponyboy took a step back as they approached him. He could probably outrun them and escape. But that option disappeared when they encircled him. Ponyboy had no choice but to defend himself and fight.

Hurriedly, Ponyboy looked around for a weapon, seeing a broken-off pipe on the ground. He quickly picked it up, right when the Socs charged at him. He ducked a blow, swinging the pipe at the Soc's torso. The Soc gasped in pain, recoiling, and Ponyboy puffed out his chest a bit, proud of himself.

Hands pulled him back before he had time to celebrate his small victory though. The blade of the switchblade slid across his cheek and Ponyboy hissed in pain as he swung his arm backward with the pipe, knocking the Soc who grabbed him away. Blood dripped down his face and it should have hurt more than it did, but the adrenaline made it almost unnoticeable.

"You little punk!" one of them growled. Ponyboy tapped the pipe in his hands before swinging it again, hitting one of the Socs in the temple, causing him to instantly black out. He could do this.

Another one was on him, stabbing the blade forward but Ponyboy sidestepped it, bashing the pipe in his ribs, and hearing a satisfying crack. As the Soc tumbled backward, he hit his wrists, knocking the switchblade out of his hands. The blade slid across the concrete and Ponyboy swiftly picked it up.

The tables had turned at that moment and the Socs knew that they were in trouble.

"Shit!" one of them cursed as he dodged the pipe that Ponyboy threw. "We gotta go, man. I think he wants to kill us!"

They all stared at him in fear and Ponyboy glared at them with all the bloodlust he had. "Go, or I'm going to stick this knife in your throats," he threatened, but the Socs were frozen in place. "_Go_!"

With that, the Socs fled, leaving their buddy behind. Ponyboy grinned victoriously, pocketing the switchblade. He just defended himself from multiple Socs. He wasn't weak like everyone kept saying he was. He just proved that! How many greasers could say that they beat as many as three Socs in a fight? The gang would be proud of him.

The streetlights flickered on above him and Ponyboy looked up at the sky. It got quite dark. He didn't know how late it was when he stormed out of the house. He should probably be heading back to the boys' home before Mrs. Lander calls the police on him. So, that was what Ponyboy did. When he returned, he noted how much quieter it was compared to other days. He entered the bedding area, totally beat. As soon as he stepped inside, all eyes turned on him just like how it was when he first arrived. Only this time it was different. It was a lot tenser than it was before.

"Um…" Ponyboy started. "Hi?"

Instantly, everybody looked away from him, trying to not make eye contact. Ponyboy only shrugged before heading over to his bed. As he passed by people, he could hear their quiet conversations. Ponyboy managed to pick up some of the sentences that were being said.

"Look at that cut… He's been in another fight."

"I heard he pushed Mrs. Lander."

"I don't want to cross him."

"He scares me."

"He's like a hood. Tough, man. We shouldn't get involved with him if we could."

Ponyboy felt a bit sad listening to them. Is that what they really thought of him? Did they think he was some scary monster or something? He was hoping that he could at least make a few friends while there, but they all didn't want to approach him. His chest felt like there was a pit in it. Was he really destined to be alone there?

He shook his head, pushing down all of his feelings. Fine, he declared to himself. If that's what they want him to be, he's going to be it. It was better than being labeled as weak and being pushed around. He was like the alpha now, not Dan. He should be proud.

But, Ponyboy didn't know how much that title would change him as time went on.

**o-o-o**

It's been a few more weeks since the fight with Dan and Ponyboy was practically unrecognizable. The bruises died down quite a bit, minus the ones he got from Mrs. Lander (and even those were limited). She still abused him because Ponyboy couldn't do much about that. He feared that he would be sent someplace much worse if he stood up to her too much.

The chores he had to do decreased to almost nothing as other boys in the boys' home started to take his jobs for him without him even having to ask. Ponyboy knew that it was out of fear, but he didn't mind having more free time. He even got to go outside more even though he wasn't allowed to.

During the time there, Ponyboy became even tougher, like Dally. He got into fights a lot and actually won all of them. Tuff scars started to replace his bruises and he started to build up a lot more muscle. His eyes were different. They used to be green-gray, but they were more stormy gray now, cold and calculating. They were the eyes that sent shivers down anyone's spine with how dead and icy they were. Ponyboy was skinnier too. The definitions of his bones now sharp and striking instead of soft. A large scar ran from his cheek from the first fight he was in with the Socs. If the past Ponyboy were to see him now, he wouldn't be able to recognize himself.

Speaking of fights, Ponyboy was in one now. His body crashed against the fence and he slid down it before he could get pummeled. Ponyboy shot forward and tackled the Soc down, climbing on top of him and punching him in the face until his knuckles started to split. Another Soc knocked him off, wrapping his hands around his throat causing him to gasp as the air got cut off. He reached around the Soc's wrists trying to pry him off but couldn't. So, instead, with his vision turning dark, Ponyboy reached into his pocket and flicked out his switchblade that he took from a Soc a while back.

He only meant to cut him a bit, but he didn't have much control of how much strength he had with all of the adrenaline running throughout his body. The blade sunk deep in the Soc's abdomen and he howled out in pain, pulling away from Ponyboy and bringing the knife with him.

It all went so fast after that. Air returned back in Ponyboy's lungs, causing him to cough violently. Socs were screaming around him, scampering around. Everything was a blur as the Socs fled the area. The spot Ponyboy was sitting at started to become wet with a puddle, and as Ponyboy's vision refocused, he saw that it was blood. But his brain wasn't connecting the dots, not at first at least.

Who was bleeding so much? Was it him? Ponyboy patted himself down. No. He hardly had a cut on him. He looked around and froze, blood running cold. He cursed, feeling his stomach turn. He felt his food come up his throat and he quickly turned to the side to throw it up.

Before him was the body of the Soc that he stabbed. His lifeless body was becoming paler before his eyes, mouth slightly parched with trails of blood running down it. His eyes were lifeless and blank, staring at him almost wide like he was in the middle of being in shock. Pony's blade was stuck in his side, a large patch of blood surrounding it.

Holy crap. Crap. Crap!

What was he supposed to do? He did that.

Oh, crap. Oh, crap. Oh, crap!

It went too far. He never meant for it to go that far. He never wanted to kill the Soc. He only wanted to maim him a bit, nothing more.

He felt sick again, causing him to once again throw up the rest of the food in his body.

Oh god, what was he supposed to do?

He had to run. The cops were surely going to come and get him. How much time had passed since the Socs scampered off? Minutes? How long did it take for cops to arrive at a scene?

He had to run now! Go!

But, before he could even move, he heard sirens approaching and he knew that it was too late. The Socs probably already got ahold of the police and they weren't that far from the station.

Police cars pulled up around him and before he knew it, he was held at gunpoint.

"Put your hands up! Hands up, right now!" one of the policemen screamed. Ponyboy followed his instructions, hands shaking violently. They approached him, yelling words, but all Ponyboy heard was a ringing in his ears. He was slammed against the ground, arms twisted behind his back before handcuffs surrounded his wrists. "You're under arrest for murder."

**o-o-o**

The gang was all miserable. It's been a while since Ponyboy was taken to a boys' home and they had yet found a way to bring him back or even contact him. The house was quiet without him despite the fact that he was never the one who made all the noise. Everyone was distraught about his absence, but no one was as torn up about it as much as Soda and Darry. Both of them looked like they've seen better days. None of them really slept and Darry, who was twenty, already started to have gray hairs show up from all the stress.

They started to think that they would never see the youngest member of the gang again, but they still didn't give up.

One day, they finally got ahold of the social worker and got the number to the house. However, when they called the number, the person who answered told them that residents were not allowed phone access for whatever reason. But that didn't stop them. They found the address that the number was connected to and were about to head out to visit the house and demand to see Ponyboy when Curly Shepard waltzed inside.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked. Curly almost never stopped by the house, and, if he did, it was because he had nothing better to do. But something about this time seemed different. He came in with almost an urgent expression on his face, looking like he was about to burst out with important words.

"It's Ponyboy," he started, and everyone was alert, practically perking up their ears like dogs.

"What about Ponyboy?" Soda asked with concern.

"He was just arrested."

The house went silent as eyes were blown wide. "What?" Darry asked, not believing what he just heard. There was no way that could be true, right? Sure, Pony would sometimes help Two-Bit or Dally steal from stores, but he was always careful about not being arrested. He stayed out of trouble for the most part. "Are you sure?"

"A video was taken of him."

Curly showed the video to the gang, and although it was blurry and far away, the hair color of the greaser in it was clearly distinctive. He was surrounded by Socs and the gang stiffened. There was no way Ponyboy could defend himself against that many Socs. The Socs were slowly approaching him but Ponyboy stood his place looking somewhat relaxed.

All of a sudden, the Socs all charged him and Ponyboy dove out of the way, stomping down on the back of one of their knees and knocking them down. He quickly kicked that Soc in the head before another one grabbed him. As if like a routine, Pony quickly grabbed their arms, widening his stance to become more stable before leaning forward, flipping the Soc over his shoulder, crashing him onto the ground.

The gang members all watched in amazement, mouth slightly agape, as Ponyboy defended himself even though he was outnumbered. They never seen him fight like that before. Sure, he was a good fighter already, but not _this_ good. They wondered how much practice he had to get that good. They didn't want to think about it too much, but he couldn't have gotten that good over one fight. The gang watched him pummel the Socs down, their faces turning a dark color which was clearly blood.

"Shit, man," Dally cursed as Ponyboy punched one Soc into another, knocking them both down.

They all held their breaths as Pony was suddenly pushed against the ground and a Soc pinned him. They watched as hands were wrapped around his throat. Pony's body stiffened before he thrashed around, trying to rip the Socs hand off of him, but they weren't budging. Ponyboy reached somewhere and there was a glimmer of light before the video was cut off.

"What? No! What happened?" Darry demanded.

Curly shrugged. "I don't know, but, it's something big happened if Ponyboy is in jail now."

"Darry…" Soda started, and Darry nodded.

"We need to go find out what exactly happened," Darry declared, grabbing his keys. "You coming, Curly?"

"Nah. Tell me what happened though." With that Curly left the house.

"What the hell did we just watch?" Steve asked, snapping out of his stupor.

"Was that really Pony?" Johnny whispered unbelievingly.

"It had to be him. No other greaser has hair like that," Two-Bit answered numbly.

"Glad the kid toughened up though," Dally brought up and Steve nodded in agreement.

"But still… something's not right…" Soda murmured.

They all loaded up in the truck, some taking another car so they wouldn't be cramped. They drove to the jail, feeling everything go in slow motion. It wasn't that long since the video came out so he should still be there. Once they arrived the person at the reception desk looked up. "Can I help you?" they asked.

"Is Ponyboy Curtis here?" Darry asked, tapping his fingers impatiently.

"Yes."

"Can we see him?"

The receptionist pursed their lips. "Well… I suppose, but you will only get forty-five minutes with him."

"That's all we need."

"Very well. I'll get someone to set that meeting up. In the meantime, I need all of you to empty your belongings into this bin. You will be double-checked later." They put a bin on the counter and the gang emptied their pockets and put their belongings into it. "Please wait until everything is set up."

"Okay, but can you tell me what he's in for and if we can pay for bail?"

The receptionist looked at Darry with a dead look before saying, "Ponyboy Curtis has been charged with murder."

The gang's blood ran cold, looking at the receptionist in shock. No way. No way could Ponyboy be charged with murder. He couldn't kill a bug without feeling guilty about it. They couldn't believe it. The charges were wrong. They had to be. There was just no way that could be true.

"He will be appearing in court to find out what his sentence will be. Now, please, sit down."

They complied, too numb to argue with the receptionist. Ponyboy would explain everything to them and tell them that it wasn't true. It took more than half an hour of waiting before they were called up and brought to an interrogation room. A few chairs were brought inside for them to sit around the single table. They sat down. A few minutes later, a policeman walked in with Ponyboy in tow, wrists wrapped in handcuffs.

When the gang looked at him, they hardly could believe their eyes. He looked completely different than the soft boy they knew a while back. He was covered in scars and his eyes looked like they've seen an entire town be massacred. Although they were blank, they showed a bit of shock when he saw who was visiting him. But that quickly passed as he sat in front of them almost with a bored expression. That gave them a little hope. If Ponyboy murdered someone, he would have been pretty torn up about it.

"It's been a while," he greeted, calmly. The gang thought he was going to go into a relieved frenzy when he saw them, breaking down, but he didn't. "You guys are finally taking the time out of your day to visit me?"

"What…" Soda swallowed. "What happened to you? The scars… Your face." Soda tried to reach up but Ponyboy moved away, brushing the hand away. The policeman that was in the corner of the room tensed up at the motion and Ponyboy caught it.

"Calm down. You know I'm not going to do anything," he reassured to the policeman who gave him a pointed look.

"Not do anything? You've done quite a lot," he said.

"Done a lot?" Darry asked.

The policeman looked at him, nodding. "Ponyboy here is a regular in jail. He's here almost every week. What was it last week?"

"Vandalism."

"And the week before that?"

"Blew up a postbox with fireworks."

"And you got in a fight and tied their unconscious bodies to someone's car, hotwired it and underage drove, dragging the bodies along the asphalt."

"Oh, that was a fun day!" Ponyboy chirped, a smile on his lips like he was actually recalling a nice memory.

"Luckily, they weren't too hurt. There are many others. Too many to go over."

The gang couldn't believe what they heard. Has Ponyboy really been doing stuff like that? That didn't sound like him at all. Hell, even Dally, who had been in the slammer quite a bit, hadn't done anything like that.

"But, this time, you're in for murder. What… did you get bored of the petty misdemeanors and moved on to taking the lives of others?"

Ponyboy rolled his eyes and scoffed. "It was an accident! Self-defense!"

"Self-defense and accident are different words. Which is it?"

"Self-defense," Ponyboy clarified. "They were trying to kill me."

"Yeah, _right_. You're the one who initiated the fight. I just can't believe you could act so blasé about the whole thing."

The boy stiffened a bit and he shifted his eyes to his hands. Ponyboy was still freaking out about the whole situation, but he was still in shock over the situation. Acting aloof was the only thing keeping him from breaking down. He shrugged nonchalantly, picking at some of the scars on his hands.

"Ponyboy… you really murdered someone?" Johnny asked quietly, wanting to be absolutely sure.

"It would seem," Ponyboy replied, turning to the policeman. "Can I go now? I was in the middle of winning a bet with an inmate."

"But it's only been five minutes," the policeman informed and Ponyboy rolled his eyes.

"So? I have nothing else to say here."

"Ponyboy, what happened to you?" Darry suddenly asked and Ponyboy's expression wavered for a bit.

"I grew up; toughened up, Dar. That's what you all wanted, right?"

"Not like this, kid," Steve replied.

"Yeah. This new Ponyboy isn't right at all," Dally agreed. "You're not tough, you're an asshole." Ponyboy glared at him but Dally didn't waiver.

"You're nasty now," Darry continued, and they all agreed. "I don't like you like this."

"Well, what you like doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm preventing people from walking all over me and from looking down at me."

"This isn't you at all. What happened to the Ponyboy we know? What happened to the sunset-watching brother who drew pictures, read books, watched movies, got good grades and was the one who was going to make it out of here?" Soda asked.

"That Ponyboy is dead. He had to die in order to survive."

"Survive?" Two-Bit questioned but Ponyboy ignored him.

"You know what I learned with my time at the boys' home?" he started. "Life is just one big hierarchical system. You have to climb up it in order to live and be respected. You have to show people that you are above them to get things done your way."

"No… That's not right…" Johnny rejected.

"Oh, what do you know?" Ponyboy harshly snapped at him and Dally instantly shot up, grabbing Ponyboy by the neck of his shirt, pulling him up.

"Hold up!" the policeman called out, trying to separate the two of them, but Dally didn't let go. He glared at Ponyboy who mirrored the expression back, none of them tearing their eyes from the other.

"Dally, let go," Darry tried but Dally ignored him.

"Listen. I don't know what exactly got into you, but that doesn't give you the right to talk to Johnny like that, you hear?"

Ponyboy dryly chuckled, smirking. "Do you think you intimidate me? You don't scare me, Dally. Now, let go of me."

"Make me."

Ponyboy's eyes narrowed more before he put his cuffed hands on Dally's wrist, and put pressure on them until they gave away. Dally stumbled forward and Ponyboy swung forward with his head, clenching his teeth as he headbutted the other's head. Instantly, Dally let go of him, feeling his brain rattle in his skull. He recovered quickly and rose a fist, but the policeman interjected, pushing him away. Darry quickly grabbed Dally to hold him back as the policeman grabbed Ponyboy and slammed him against the interrogation table. The gang winced at how hard it was. That was going to leave bruises.

"That's it, Curtis, you're done. Back in your cell."

Ponyboy growled but let himself be pulled back up. Dally pulled free from Darry's hold and went to punch Ponyboy again by stopped when Soda spoke up.

"Stop it! Please, just stop fighting," he begged. Dally shot Soda a look, faltering when he saw tears fall from Soda's eyes. He lowered his fist and Soda took that as a go to talk to the policeman. "Sir, please, let us continue talking to Pony."

The policeman looked skeptical but nodded, pushing Ponyboy back in his seat, who looked less than pleased. He turned his eyes to Soda and for a moment faltered again. He hated seeing Soda cry. It didn't matter if most of his empathy was stuffed in a box and locked away. He didn't want to see him cry, let alone be the reason for it.

"Pony, please go back to how you used to be. You're scaring me. Please, just be our Ponyboy again."

Again, Ponyboy faltered. Each word was a blow to the locked box. "Why should I? It's not like things are going to go back to how they were before. I'm not going home with you. It's not like you care anyways. You never tried to call or do anything to get me out—"

A loud slap resonated throughout the interrogation room and everyone's eyes widened. Pony's head was snapped to the side before he looked at Soda in shock, face turning red where he was slapped. Soda never hit him. No one in the family did. They were against it. Tears were falling like waterfalls down Soda's face. "You don't know, Pony. You don't know what we tried. We tried day and night to get you back and find out where you were. It took us this long to be able to find you. This Ponyboy now is not my brother. You're not him. I don't want you back home because I don't recognize you at all. So, please, just bring him back. I want him back. I want _my_ Ponyboy."

Ponyboy looked at Soda sadly, hardened expression breaking. The locked box was so close to breaking. Cracks spread across it like a spiderweb. It wouldn't be too much longer before it fell apart. Ponyboy closed his eyes for a long time before opening them again. "I'm sorry, but that's impossible."

"And why's that?"

"Because I don't remember how to be him. I don't know who I was before this." He turned to the policeman. "Can I go now?"

"No. We still have time," Darry objected. Ponyboy clenched his teeth. He could feel the pressure of incoming tears and he tried his best to prevent them from escaping.

"Ponyboy… You're my best friend. You're kind and caring. You're observant and always knows what I'm thinking. You make sure to always include me in activities so that I wouldn't be left out. You taught me to enjoy the little things in life," Johnny explained, tears glistening in his dark eyes. Another crack spread across the box. He could feel it. He had to go now before he broke completely. He couldn't let them see him break. Breaking meant he was weak.

"You're like a break from life. Being around you is always nice because it doesn't feel like I'm required to act a certain way. We can just sit there in silence and just enjoy each other's company," Two-Bit continued.

"You're a brat," Steve started suddenly.

"Steve!" Soda scolded and Steve just held up his hands.

"Let me finish." He turned back to Ponyboy. "You're a brat, annoying, and most of the time, I can't stand you. But I will admit that you're like the annoying little brother that I never had. Despite what I say, I do appreciate you there."

"You're smart too, even though you don't use your head all the time. You're imaginative and you are so talented and ambitious. You can do so many things that most people cannot do well at, making you unique and your own person. You try your best to not let anybody change that… but, I see now that you let people get to you," Darry continued.

"And, Pony, you're the best younger brother in the world. We care about each other a lot. I get you through your problems and you help me with mine. You always amaze me with how far you could reach. In a way, I was always jealous of you for effortlessly being good at everything and have people always expecting that you would go far," Soda admitted. After he spoke, the gang all looked at Dally expectedly.

"Oh, are we all doing this?" he asked, and everyone nodded. He took a deep breath. "Ponyboy, you're a fun person to hang out with. I don't like hanging out with a lot of people, but you're not that bad."

When they all looked back at Ponyboy, they expected some sort of reaction from him, but his face was blank. But they only had sight of his face for a few moments before he turned to the policeman. "I'm going back now."

Before anyone could say anything, Ponyboy started to walk out, although very rushed. The policeman had no choice but to follow him.

"Hold on, is that it? Are you really not going to acknowledge what we said? Are you really not going to be our Ponyboy again?" Darry asked but Ponyboy ignored him, almost reaching the door. "Pony!"

Darry grabbed Ponyboy's shoulder and flipped him around to look at him. When Ponyboy turned around, none of them were expecting the tears that fell from his eyes. He was staring at the ground, unable to lift his eyes to look at them. He was crying but he didn't want to be. Crying made him vulnerable. He thought that nothing would affect him anymore; that he locked everything up for good, but the gang had to come in a burst through all of his walls that he put up.

"Oh, Pony…" Soda murmured.

Darry smiled a bit and pointed at the tears. "That. That's the Ponyboy we know. So, just let him out."

No. Ponyboy couldn't go back to how he was before. That Ponyboy was a crybaby. He was weak and a pushover. Ponyboy didn't… he couldn't be that Ponyboy anymore. He wiped the tears away and tried to harden his expression, but it only made him cry harder and look more pitiful. He couldn't do it anymore. He wanted everything to stop. Everything was moving too fast for him again. It was like things were spinout out of control. "Just leave me alone."

Darry's face fell and the gang was looking at him helplessly. "What happened to you at the boys' home, Pony?" Two-Bit asked. "What changed you?"

Ponyboy shook his head, sobbing. "Please, Ponyboy," Johnny pleaded. "Tell us. We can help you."

"That's what you all promised when I was put in the home," Ponyboy cried out. "And look where it brought us."

"Ponyboy, you can tell us anything," Darry coaxed.

"I can't though."

"And why's that."

Ponyboy looked down at his feet. Soda was the one who answered. "Because he's scared. He's scared of being hurt by other people. The last time he was like this, he was being bullied in school and he didn't tell us because he was scared of being hurt more. Putting up a tough front will make it seem like you're invincible, but it will never change what you're afraid of."

"Fear is the strongest emotion," Johnny stated. "Ponyboy, you told me that."

"Ponyboy… is or did someone hurt you?"

At the sentence, Ponyboy stiffened and they all knew the answer from that. Ponyboy nodded. "Yes," he squeaked.

"Who? We can stop them from hurting you if you tell us."

Ponyboy opened his mouth, finding it to be dryer than a desert. He looked in the eyes of each of the gang members, hoping to see that they were lying about doing something because then it would be easier for him. But their eyes were filled with determination. They were serious about helping him.

"It's going to be okay," Soda reassured, smiling to help him relax.

There's no choice, he guessed. The gang wasn't going to let him leave without him telling them. Even the policeman looked interested.

"It was…" He took a deep breath. "It was Mrs. Lander, the person who was watching over us all, and the boys in the home. Every day, they beat the shit out of me. They made fun of me, called me names. It was just like at school, but I was living it every hour of every day."

"And you just snapped?" Steve asked and Ponyboy nodded.

"I fought back, and I thought it was going to be a one-time thing, but people started to treat me differently. So, I guess… I just subconsciously obliged to what I was being labeled as. It hurt a lot less."

"Wait, Mrs. Lander was abusing you and you never reported it?" the policeman interrupted.

"Yeah…"

"We could have instantly moved you as well as the other kids out of the house. But that's terrible. Going from abusive home to abusive home."

"My brothers didn't abuse me though. They were falsely accused."

The policeman frowned. "You mean, all of the reports were wrong? I'll have to report this so that we can give you a retrial on that. But that doesn't change the fact that you murdered someone. You will most likely be needing to serve time in juvenile detention. But we can probably get it so that the sentence time would be shorter, and you can even do community service time or something to shorten it."

Ponyboy looked incredulously at him. "Why are you being this understanding?"

"Because from the first time you were arrested, I knew you were a good kid deep down. What they said about you proved it."

"Oh…"

"Anyways, your time is up and—"

"Ponyboy, are you okay? We never asked that yet," Soda interrupted.

Of course, he wasn't okay. He just murdered someone! He shook his head, sobbing and all Ponyboy wanted to do was scoop him up in a hug, but that wasn't allowed. His hands shook and at that moment he was like a scared little kid.

Screw the rules. Soda hugged Ponyboy tightly. Pony instantly dug his face in Soda's shoulder. "It's okay. It was an accident. It wasn't your fault."

They stayed like that a while with Soda soothing Ponyboy. No one dared to interrupt them because they knew how much Ponyboy needed it.

When Ponyboy finally calmed down a bit, the policeman stepped up again. "I have to bring you back to the cell. Finish up any last goodbyes."

As soon as the policeman said that the gang all scooped him in a hug (at least most of them did). "Pony, don't change while you're in there. Please, not again. Be yourself," Soda pleaded.

"It's going to be tough. Prison changes you," Dally said.

"But not Ponyboy. He'll make it through. I'm sure of it."

"While in there, a word of advice, don't join another gang. Stay out of that. Keep to yourself and make it clear to everyone that you just want to serve time. Got it?"

Ponyboy nodded. "Got it, Dal."

The policeman tapped the door and Ponyboy wiped away the last of his tears. "I'm going to miss you all."

"Not as much as we will you," Soda said, watching as Ponyboy was taken from the room.

**o-o-o**

Ponyboy was, as expected, placed in prison. Fortunately, he was just charged with involuntary manslaughter and was given only a sixteen-month sentence. The gang waited anxiously outside the prison, the truck was running so the vehicle wouldn't become a toaster in the hot summer heat. It felt like they were waiting for hours before the gate opened and Ponyboy stepped through. His eyes lit up when he saw them and before he could take another step he was tackled in hugs.

"You're Ponyboy, right?" Two-Bit asked.

Ponyboy smiled. "It's me."

**o-o-o**

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